


Candlelight

by StrangelySmitten (BotanyCameos)



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: (although it's very light dubcon), Basically an omegaverse take on Stephen's arrival in Kamar Taj, Falling In Love, Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, More angst than porny stuff but there's a bit of everything, Omegaverse, dubcon, even some, rescue romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 22:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10370919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotanyCameos/pseuds/StrangelySmitten
Summary: Before Mordo even gets to say "you're looking for Kamar Taj", Stephen succumbs to his injuries and passes out in Mordo's arms. He wakes up in an unknown place, and finds that the man who rescued him is sleeping on a chair next to the bed, his handsome face bathed in the candlelight.Omegaverse version of Stephen and Mordo's first meeting from the movie. With Stephen going into heat, and needing Mordo's help while also being terrified of a bond and of possibly losing his freedom to an unknown alpha.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born as a merging of two prompts. One from the [Doctor Strange kinkmeme](https://doctorstrangekinkmeme.tumblr.com/) and one from [Mianmimi.](http://mianmimi.tumblr.com/)  
> Since the prompts have some mild spoilers for the fic, I put them in the end notes.
> 
> Some days ago, several of us who write Strordo were having writers' block. We didn't plan this at all, but in an amusing coincidence all of us got rid of the writers' block on same time, and all by writing Omegaverse! XD
> 
>  **Warning:** There's no rape in the fic, but Stephen is a homeless omega who has been in dangerous situations, and who at different moments in the story believes he's about to be raped. So take that into account if it's something that might be a difficult subject for you.
> 
> Not beta'ed.
> 
> * * *

The fever from his imminent heat had already been fogging up his brain when he stopped to help the injured dog.

That was perhaps why he made the mistake to speak in English aloud in a back alley like that, and why his fumbling movements, even more inefficient than usual, made his sleeve ride up and revealed his watch.

  
When he got up and saw the gang blocking his escape, he realized the terrible mistake he’d just made, but by then it was already too late.

Stephen had been in the streets for a while, and had long ran out of suppressants.  
Even back in New York, he’d been taking less and less, desperately funneling any money he had into the attempts to cure his hands, and getting into more and more debt when nothing worked. After Christine left, he had no one else to bring him any from the hospital, and soon enough no money to buy any himself anyway. So what little he left had to be stretched to last as long as possible. But after months of being homeless and wandering through the streets of Kamar Taj, it was all gone, like his money, like everything he’d ever had.

He’d been through countless risky situations, many of which had ended on borderline rape. It was luck and strategy, as well as an uncanny survival instinct and ability to think fast to metaphorically land back on his feet even in the most complicated situations, that had saved him so far, allowing him to escape all of those past close calls, often at the very last second. 

But this time there was no escaping it. He was cornered and outnumbered, with no way out of the imminent assault.

They beat him first, then started to yank at his clothes, ripping the fabric where it wouldn’t give. The air hitting his gaunt stomach when the torn shirt was jerked out of his pants brought a rush of cold terror to him.  
He wanted to fight back so badly, but after the first punch he managed to land, his movements were weak and uncoordinated, both from the injuries in his hands and from the heat. 

His mind, normally his best recourse, was swimming now, hazy and teetering on the edge of failing him completely.

He was on the ground, curled into a ball under the kicks and punches raining down on him, and desperately trying to shield his body from the hands ripping his clothes off, when suddenly something happened that interrupted the attack.

His last memory was of an imposing man in an odd outfit, an unexpected beacon of hope in the dire situation. Hooded and moving like a shadow, the man swooped down on the attackers and beat them mercilessly, then approached him. 

  
But the man was an alpha, his pheromones so clear and strong that it made the omega’s mouth water, need and terror intermingling together, and Stephen was helpless at his feet, barely able to sit back to look up at him, on the verge of succumbing to his heat and begging to be fucked. Even if the unknown man had good intentions, nothing good could come out of that situation, he was sure. 

Stephen lost consciousness before he could see the man’s face, falling forward like a puppet with its strings cut off, right into the man’s arms, and the last thought on his mind was, _“I’m doomed.”_

 

~~~

 

Stephen regained his senses slowly, feeling at first very groggy and unsure of his memories from just before he blacked out. He remembered the beating very clearly in every ache that currently made his body --already weakened by hunger and overexertion-- throb with more pain than it normally did.

He was afraid to fully wake up and find out in what condition he was. But there was no avoiding that, and he was surprised to realize, once he was a little more coherent, that the parts of his body he’d been expecting to be hurting the most, hadn’t been touched. 

With hands shaking even harder than usual, he felt his way up his body, taking inventory of everything and finding he was still wearing his clothes, save for the outer coat that had been the dirtiest part of his outfit, due to far too many nights sleeping in the rough in alleys and behind dumpsters.  
He was in a bed, narrow and spartan, but with clean, fresh bedding. Sheets and a warm coverlet were draped over him. The sheets had been changed recently, as they smelled freshly laundered, but the bed itself had the underlying scent of an alpha, in a way that was unexpectedly reassuring rather than frightening. It was the scent of the man he’d seen in the alley, the man who had beaten up the gang. It made him feel safe.

Stephen’s mind was still addled by the beginning of his heat so it took him a moment to realize that said man was actually sitting in a chair a little ways from the bed, lightly asleep with an old book on his lap. The soft light of the candle on the bedside table lit his face like a caress, the glow of the fire bathing the terra-cotta brown of his skin in warm, golden red, giving it hints of copper. He had a very regal and harmonious face, with full lips that seemed made for kisses, long lashes and a slightly rounded nose that completed that very attractive picture. Short cropped hair and an appealing dusting of a beard, slightly more than a five-o'clock shadow, framed and complemented it all. Even in his sleep, the set of his face looked commanding and protective, the slight furrow of his eyebrows giving the image of a man of responsibility and caring.

For a short, dazed moment, Stephen found himself staring breathlessly at the beauty of the man, not fully processing the reality of the situation. Then his brain seemed to finally crawl its way through the hormonal fog of his heat long enough for him to understand.

As soon as Stephen fully processed the realization that he wasn’t alone, and worse, that he was in some unknown place with an unknown alpha, _in said alpha’s bed _ no less , he panicked, heartbeat rushing into a racing tempo dictated by his sudden panic.

 

~~~

 

Mordo had sat by the side of the injured omega all night long, making sure he was okay and standing watch over him, as a protector. It was perhaps an old-fashioned chivalrous notion, but it was the kind of man he was, the kind of person his ancestors had been --regardless of what horrors his grandfather and his mother may have more recently turned their family into.

It was hard to be around the omega’s scent; in many ways it was a test of his control. But he was confident in his unwavering willpower, and also, in the spell he’d cast over himself to avoid being swayed by the pheromones currently filling the room. The delectable scent of the man in his bed was so inviting, all the more tempting as it mingled with his own scent in the mattress, as if telling him of what could be, luring him to claim the omega and unite their scents on that very bed. 

But he squashed such thoughts brutally. There were many who believed that an omega’s wants and needs were meaningless in the face of an alpha’s decisions and that alphas should just take whatever they wanted as they pleased, but Mordo found that an abject concept. 

  
He was an aristocrat --by the very nature of their rank, of the power that came with it, they were born to be defenders of the population, a belief Mordo held at his core. They were meant to use their position to protect those around them. He may be so very far from Varf Mandra and his family’s ancestral castle, but he had always considered that the people around him were under his protection, at any time and in any place. It was also in part why he had intervened and rescued the man in the alley.

The poor omega was in a bad way, and his heat was about to consume him soon, so it was much too late for suppressants. There was no choice but going through with it, and as such, Mordo had to shelter him until the heat was safely over. They may be in Kamar Taj, where everyone most likely meant well (although it was harder to trust as openly now, after Kaecilius), but not everybody had as fine control over themselves as Mordo did, especially the novices and apprentices, and as such, he felt that the safest place for the injured man was in this room.

Mordo was considering what to do if the heat was too harsh and the omega couldn’t bear it by simply waiting until it was over. He hoped the man would still be coherent enough to make emergency decisions once he woke up, but there was no guarantee, as the heat affected each omega differently. For now, all he could do was wait until the man woke up.

To pass the time while he waited, Mordo had been perusing an old spell book that hadn’t been translated yet, and had finally dozed off for just an instant.

  
He was pulled from his slumber when his third eye picked up on a change in the omega’s heartbeat, which had gone from the erratic but slower beat of feverish sleep to, all of a sudden, something Mordo could only qualify as a dangerously high heart-rate. 

He shot awake immediately, jumping to his feet and moving towards the bed with worry, then regretting it when he saw the terrified way the omega looked at him. The wounded man was trying to scoot away from him and nearly toppling over the edge of the bed in his hurry to escape.

“No, please…” the pain and fear audible in the omega’s voice tore like a knife through Mordo’s heart. Before the man could back away far enough to fall from the bed, Karl stopped advancing and raised his hands slowly, palms forward, in an appeasing gesture. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m the one who rescued you from those men in the street.” Mordo stayed far enough from the bed, trying to look less dangerous, and just watched the other.

The man, an American, from the sound of his accent, was still shaking, but all of a sudden he stopped looking like he was about to try and run, and instead had some sort of horrified realization dawn of his face. “My… my watch!!” He stared at his bare wrist with a look of such loss that Mordo rushed to pull out of his sash the watch he'd taken from the thieves. With his worry for the man’s wellbeing, the object had slipped his mind, or Mordo would have placed it by his pillow much sooner. He approached just enough to hand the man the watch, gestures careful so as to not frighten him further. 

The American stared up at him with a bewildered look, awe making his pale grey-green eyes seem even more clear and captivating. The color of seafoam under a stormy sky, with bits of gold dancing in it. Mordo’s heart skipped a beat.

The man received the watch in his shaking hands, and the brief instant during which their fingers touched felt like an electric connection. 

Between those mesmerizing eyes and the feverish flush on the omega’s cheeks, Mordo felt a new surge of protectiveness for the fragile man in his bed. He needed to know more about him.

“You were looking for Kamar Taj.”

The American’s hands shook even harder at the sound of those words, and despite his vulnerable situation and the fear he'd been displaying until a moment ago, as soon as he heard Mordo’s words he immediately leaned closer, head shooting up, lips parted in an unspoken question, staring up at him, the watch forgotten now. 

Mordo explained, still in a soft voice that he intentionally made as gentle and non-threatening as he could, “I have brought you to Kamar Taj. Our master was initially reluctant to take you in, but I have made a case for the decision of your stay or departure to be pushed back until you are…” he gestured to the man in a way that alluded to his current state without being vulgar, “feeling well again.”

Far from viewing it as a positive, the American was now shaking harder than before.

“I… I need to stay. There's nothing else left in my life. If you are going to throw me out, you might as well kill me.”

If those dramatic words had come out of anyone else’s mouth, Mordo might have taken them as foolish exaggeration, but the extreme despair in this man’s features, and how sincerely he said it, left him no doubt that the omega believed what he said. 

  
All the more so when the man continued, in a terrified but determined manner, “I will do anything… anything you want, if-” 

Mordo interrupted him immediately. “That won’t be necessary. This is not that kind of place, and the decision will not be made for a while. And either way, it is not up to me.” 

  
He almost added, _ ‘and besides, I am already on your side.’_

Ever since he’d seen the man in the street, and the way he’d reacted by trying to stand up to the muggers even in such a precarious position, Mordo had been intent on making him a student at Kamar Taj. He only hoped the Ancient One would see things the same way.

 

~~~

 

Hours had passed since their conversation. Mordo had brought his protégé food and fresh clothes, a simple set of sleeping robes, a grey top like the ones worn by the novices, and a matching pair of loose trousers, which he helped him change into after the omega took a cursory shower in the small bathroom area of the room. The heat was affecting the poor omega so much that he could barely touch the food, only able to have a bite or two despite how obviously hungry he was.  


The man, who had since told Mordo his name was Stephen Strange, was still nervous, but necessity and the pain in his hands --or perhaps the fact he was too weakened to refuse-- made him accept his help easily enough, if a bit awkwardly. The omega’s movements were heavily affected by the start of his heat, his body uncooperative and laden with need. He wouldn’t have been able to get changed by himself; as it was he used up what little energy he had left for the shower and could barely stand by the end of it. Mordo hastily helped him dry and dress, guiding him to sit down. Every time his fingers accidentally brushed Stephen’s bare skin it was like the two of them had been touched with a live wire. Stephen actually flinched, and Mordo found himself more and more unable to retain any semblance of a serene mindset.

This was not what Mordo had been expecting. He’d never planned for such a thing to happen. He thought the omega would go through the heat within his rooms, where he’d intended to give him shelter through the storm, so to speak, and guard over him, preferably from outside the doors. But now he was having more and more trouble clinging to his own magic-enhanced self-control. And worse, it was becoming more and more evident that the heat was affecting Stephen terribly hard, and that he was at risk of severe complications if left alone. 

  
It was always a gamble, with such things. While it was generally accepted that it was cruel to make an omega go through their heat alone, there were many omegas who preferred to suffer through that, no matter how horrible it may be, rather than being at the mercy of just any alpha.

But for a percentage of the omega population, there was no choice at all, as the heat would ravage their biology in such a manner that not receiving help from an alpha to get through it would drive them mad or even, in a number of cases, result in death. It was looking like Stephen was among those unfortunate cases, and it was weeks too late to get him suppressants. 

Tying the sash of the robe around Stephen’s waist while the omega leaned heavily against his chest, Mordo spoke soothing words, “Don’t worry. I will take care of you, if you need me to.” The American was trembling in his arms, breath ragged, his whole body racked by shivers of fever. Cold sweat clung to his skin and his hands were clammy, shaking on his lap.  
From where the omega was sitting, he looked up at Mordo with glazed eyes and seemed to be desperately clinging to the edge of his sanity before being swallowed by a maelstrom of fire.

Mordo felt guilty for how appealing he found the way Stephen’s skin glistened in the light, the sheen of sweat making him glow. His eyelashes were clumped together in groups, wet and spiked by the tears welling in his eyes and the moisture from his skin. His lips were wet and quivering, breath hot against Mordo’s chest and neck. 

_ So close. _

Mordo had to force himself to tear his gaze away from those flushed lips after what felt like an eternity. The sight of Stephen’s pink tongue visible through his parted lips was like an almost-irresistible invitation.

He chastised himself internally. Kamar Taj was not a place for savages. He would not succumb to a primitive mating instinct like an animal. He would not give in to the urge to throw the omega on the bed and ravish him.

At least, not without making sure first that Stephen was willing, that it was what he needed and wanted. 

Consent was not a concept that crossed the gender boundaries; while no one would ever even imagine to force themselves on an alpha, it was the complete opposite when it came to an unbonded omega in heat. Stephen would be considered not only fair game, most people wouldn’t even think of there being any other option. And certainly, almost no sane alpha would bother to ask an omega in heat for consent before touching them.

Mordo was not most people.

 

~~~

 

Stephen was lost in the storm, torn between two violently contradictory urges.

One one hand, there was no way he could flee, he needed to stay in this place at any cost. He’d finally found Kamar Taj (or more exactly, Kamar Taj had somehow found him!), and he had long decided that there was no hope left for him out there. 

Life without his hands was… well, not life at all, to put it mildly. He'd tried to explain to Christine how he felt about it, but she didn't get it. He was nothing without his hands, as the misery of his life since the accident, and especially the recent months, proved so well.  
He had been decided to die if he couldn’t find Kamar Taj, or if he ultimately failed to get his hands fixed. There was no place for him to return anymore, or anything for him in life if he failed.

But on the other hand, his greatest fear in life thus far, had been to have his freedom and his self-agency taken away from him. As an omega, he’d been keenly aware since a relatively early age that all it would take was a loss of control during a heat, and then a bite from an alpha, for him to suddenly lose everything.  
Avoiding a bond --and thus, avoiding losing the control of his life to some random person who came across his barely conscious body in the middle of a heat-- had been the foremost priority of his life and the very reason why he always pumped himself full of suppressants back when he was a surgeon, and locked himself away just in case at the merest sign of a fluctuation in his hormones.

  
He could never have become a doctor or accomplished everything he did if he had been bonded, or at least, if he had been bonded to an uncomprehending alpha who wanted him as nothing more than a vessel for breeding, as was usually the case.

 

But then he’d somehow lost everything anyway, by carelessly ruining his hands, so perhaps the point was moot. And at any rate, he was beyond saving now, unable to do anything to stop whatever was about to happen to him. This complete helplessness and lack of choice was his worst fear come true, and it was cruel irony for it to come to pass right in the only place where he had thought he’d finally find hope again. It made new tears well up in his eyes.

Already earlier, when the feverish haze had been less bad, he was seized with near complete panic when Mordo (as the man who had rescued him told him he was called), had helped him out of his clothes so he could shower. Stephen had been certain then that it was just an excuse, and had been expecting to be pinned to the bed or any other surface as soon as the clothes came off. How could it possible be otherwise? Especially with the way his body was reacting to any touch from the alpha?

  
But he’d been wrong, and a shower was really all that happened. It had felt so good to finally be free of the grime and filth from all the time he’d spent living in the streets looking for Kamar Taj, even though he was certain that a rape would immediately follow. But it was never really considered rape when it came to alphas and omegas, or at least, he would be the only one feeling like he was raped, while any alpha would laugh at the thought. There was no escape. _There was never any escape, was there?_ He’d only been delaying the inevitable his whole life. He’d stood in the shower shaking, fighting those thoughts and feeling both utterly helpless and hopeless at how little control he had over his life now.

He was very confused when Mordo helped towel him dry, and even more so when the man helped him slip into the new clothes and held him so carefully, tying them closed. _Was it some kind of fetish? Why even bother putting them on?_ Stephen was having more and more trouble thinking rationally or finding explanations for the bizarre situation, and the fog in his mind was now thick enough that he saw the room as if he was looking through water, the images and sounds garbled and odd. Despite that, he could see how tense Mordo looked, and how deliberate and almost mechanical the movements of the alpha’s hands seemed as he tied the cords on the robes. He seemed terribly on edge, and Stephen couldn’t understand what he was waiting for or why he was acting that way. There was nothing Stephen could do to prevent the inevitable anyway.

He noticed that Mordo had been looking at his face for some time, and that his lips were moving, but it took Stephen a while before he realized the man had been talking. It was hard to focus on the words and understand them. Mordo was holding him in his arms, having to support Stephen’s head so it wouldn’t loll back.

“...won’t touch you unless you tell me it is what you want.”

_What? _ He wasn’t sure what Mordo had just said, but it couldn’t be what he thought he’d heard. Stephen stared at him blearily. Mordo seemed worried, and repeated the question, rewording it.

“Stephen, fight the heat. You need to stay conscious long enough to tell me what you want. I can’t touch you otherwise. Do you understand?”

Okay, he must be hallucinating. There’s no way the alpha leaning over him just said that.

“I… I understand,” he lied. He sounded as breathless as he was, but he hadn’t lost his mind yet. He wouldn’t last much longer though. He desperately tried to focus on Mordo and what he was saying. 

“Stephen, you need to make a decision.”

He did understand every word in the sentence individually, but it didn't make sense as a whole. His hazy mind kept going in wrong directions and inevitably returning over and over to the matter of Kamar Taj and the possibility of getting kicked out and losing everything. _He had to stay._ He had to stay at any cost, no matter what horrors might happen, no matter what might be done to him. 

“Yes… Yes please. Please. Don't send me away.”

He had to get that across, it was more important than anything else. He mumbled the words while clinging to the front of Mordo’s tunic, trying to ignore how dizzy with need he was. Mordo's body was warm and smelled so wonderful, all that Stephen could think about was what it would be like to have Mordo inside him. The urge to be filled was so intense now that it was making Stephen nauseous to remain untouched. Sweat was seeping into the grey tunic, and the pants he'd put on just after the shower were already soaked through with slick, the throbbing heat coming from that area making him feel like there was a furnace inside him, ready to devour him whole and his sanity along. His legs were shaking so much that if he hadn’t been sitting down with Mordo’s help he would be on the ground already. Likely at the alpha’s feet begging him to fuck him. He was terrified at how out of control he was, and how close he was to losing it and doing exactly that anyway. And even more terrified because he knew the alpha would almost certainly bite him (or something even more horrible, pass him around to a worse alpha, if Mordo didn’t find him worthy of even that), and then, who knew what would happen to him. His life would be whatever the alpha might decide. He would cease being himself, which meant he might as well cease _being_ altogether. 

_ But hadn’t he already ceased being when he broke his hands, in a way? He was lost no matter what. _

Mordo was talking again, his voice almost distorted by Stephen’s feverish haze. 

“Do I have your permission?”

Stephen had no idea what he was talking about. But he wasn't about to say no and maybe get himself kicked out. 

“Yes! Anything. You can do… anything you want…”

He felt his eyes roll up in his head just before he finally lost consciousness, darkness engulfing him. 

 

~~~

 

Stephen woke up to find that, as he expected, he was now on the bed, mostly naked and with Mordo atop him, undressing him and softly laying kisses on his face, warm lips trailing caresses along the omega’s jaw and down his neck. The touch of his lips was the only thing keeping Stephen connected to reality, as if it was what was keeping him alive. The heat was in control now, and he was lost to it, at the mercy of Mordo and whatever he may want to do to him.  


  
The alpha was already naked, and very soon they both were. Stephen would have taken the time to admire how even  more appealing Mordo was now that he was fully revealed to him in all his muscular, toned splendor, chiseled torso and limbs worthy of the classical sculptures of gods and heroes of ancient myth, but the American was beyond coherent thought. He was utterly inebriated by the alpha’s pheromones rolling down onto him, fanning the flames of his heat even higher; he clung to that scent in rapid shallow breaths, feeling like he was drowning in it and clinging to Mordo like a shipwrecked man to his salvation.

By the time Mordo finally touched him, --really _touched _ him , fingers sinking into the omega with almost eerie ease from how dripping and ripe he was with need--, Stephen’s body had become a whirlwind of desperate hunger, barely able to keep track of what was happening in a coherent or rational manner. 

And then, finally, Mordo was inside him.

But unlike what Stephen had expected, the feeling wasn’t scary or unpleasant. He felt so wonderfully full, both where it was to be expected and in his heart. And such intense pleasure coursed through his veins that his body seemed to sing, an instrument played artfully by the man thrusting into him. He lost track of how many times he came undone in Mordo’s arms, how many times the alpha wrung every bit of pleasure out of him in a way that made his mind go blank and be convinced it was impossible to climb even higher than that, only to start anew immediately after, like a wave retreating and then crashing into the beach, over and over again. 

When at last, Mordo knotted him and spilled his seed inside him, Stephen came so hard that he blacked out and lost consciousness, a silent scream on his lips, his shaking arms wrapped tight around Mordo’s shoulders.

The hours that followed were a blurry mix of semi lucid moments that all fit together like a puzzle, its pieces feeling like dreams or half remembered memories. He vaguely remembered hands cleaning him with some sort of warm wet cloth, and being held before sinking into a blissfully dreamless oblivion.

 

~~~

 

Mordo had been reluctant to leave Stephen alone even for a moment, not wanting him to wake up in an empty bed, but he also didn’t want to call for someone else to bring them breakfast.  
He got up and dressed quietly, being careful not to disturb the other man, lit up a bit of incense to clear the air up a little, and made a quick run to the kitchen. 

Perhaps it was just his alpha instincts speaking, still riding high in the afterglow of their coupling, but he felt a possessive urge to not let anyone else into the room for now. No one was to see Stephen until his heat was completely out of his system.

Mordo didn’t fully realize it just yet, but that urge was due to a part of him already believing that Stephen was so irresistible that anyone seeing him now would inevitably fall for him.

And he couldn’t possibly allow that. 

_What?_ The possessive thought was jarring, and he squashed it as soon as it came. A cold shiver ran up his spine at the realization of how attached he already was to his newly-rescued protégé. He told himself it was merely because the man was his responsibility that he was committed to seeing to his safety for as long as Stephen remained under his protection, but deep inside he knew it wasn’t the whole truth, anymore than biology had been the only reason for him to get so involved in helping him through the previous night. Mordo had been drawn to the wounded man from the very instant he first laid eyes on him, and rescuing him had been a point of no return. 

He was deep in a dark musing of what to do if the Ancient One refused to let Stephen stay, when he pushed open the kitchen door and came upon a _messe-basse_ of sorts; the worst circle of Kamar Taj gossipers all in a group whispering together, and then suddenly going silent the instant he stepped into the room. Wong was, unsurprisingly, at the head of this little gathering, as befit his rank of grand mogul of the gossiping in the compound. Master Drumm was the only one who could keep a straight face through it, inscrutable and unashamed, while on the opposite end of the spectrum, Tina was the youngest and the one with the most contrite face. 

“Ah, Karl, we were just talking about you,” piped up Wong.

“I am aware. It was quite clear.”

Wong was completely unfazed by Mordo’s harsh tone. “Oh, don’t be that way. We’re just so happy for you. You have to understand that with your personality, we were kind of despairing of you ever finding a match.”

“What?”

“We saw you bring him in yesterday. All of Kamar Taj is talking about it.” Wong, whose serious and impassible façade fooled the students but none of the masters, hesitated for an instant, making a face. “He’s… for sure not quite what we were expecting,” --at this, the others nodded, and their thoughts about what Stephen had looked like when Mordo brought him in, unconscious in his arms, injured and filthy, were evident in their expressions that ranged from somber to vaguely disgusted. Wong pushed on, making it worse with each word, “but he might clean up ok, and at this point we thought you’d grow old and die alone anyway, so we’ll take anything.” 

Mordo looked livid, and opened his mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but before he could find the right words to express his shock, Wong continued, “We’re just happy you finally have a mate.”

“He’s not… I’m not…”  


There were no words in the world that could suffice for Mordo to express how wrong they all were ( _or were they?_ A small voice in his mind wouldn’t leave the matter alone)  \-- or how disgusted he was with their meddling and indiscretion. So he did what he could to preserve whatever was left of his dignity, cutting short the hesitation and barking out, “This is none of your business, and I would rather you all cease your prying this instant!” He immediately turned away, using the anger as a cover for the fact that he was doing it so they couldn’t see the flush on his face, evident regardless of his skin. At times like this he envied Master Drumm’s stoic nature and darker skin, which would have hid the blush far better. 

Mordo grabbed a tray, rapidly piled food, necessities and a pitcher of hot water for tea atop it, and did the best he could to make his hasty departure from the kitchen appear dignified and magnanimous, or as close to it as possible given the circumstances.

He wasn’t fleeing. He was making a strategic retreat.

 

~~~

 

The morning light filtered in through the window freely, fully unhindered as a result of the lack of curtains or even glass panes. 

The smoke of an incense stick burning in a small brass receptacle on the windowsill rose in lazy spirals between the sun and the only current inhabitant of the room. It drew complex arabesques in the air but did nothing to block the light.

Slowly, Stephen’s consciousness floated back to the surface and his eyelid fluttered open. His body still felt pleasantly numb from sleep and laden from the night’s activities.

He was alone, but surrounded by warmth and a sense of security, both from the heavy blankets piled atop him, and from the scent in the bed, particularly concentrated in the still-warm spot next to him. It was likely that Mordo had been laying there until a moment ago, holding him in his arms, and that his departure had been what had begun to pull the omega out of his slumber. 

Despite the way his biology was telling him everything was as it should be, his body practically humming in contentment at the previous night, Stephen’s heart was heavy. 

He didn’t want to wake up just yet. He clung for as long as he could to that hazy edge of sleep, squeezing his eyes shut tight, tears welling at the corners of them. He was already awake, but he wanted to go on pretending a little longer. 

Very soon he would have to face the reality of his new life, and whatever he was yet to discover it might entail. He knew that when he got up and looked in the mirror, he would see the bonding mark, scarring the spot where his neck and shoulder met, changing him forever, stripping him of any semblance of freedom he might have left. Making him into an owned thing, rather than a man in possession of his own body and future. He took in shallow breaths, trying to control his despair and mounting panic.

The lack of pain in the area was surprising, though. As a doctor, he knew those bites were in many cases quite deep, and often required medical intervention to heal well. He’d heard the stories about how a bonded omega felt such belonging that just after being bonded they usually didn’t even feel the pain from the bite, but he’d always chalked it up to those being stupid tales people told omegas to manipulate them into submitting to such savagery. He didn’t feel any different than usual, but seized by a sudden fear that those stories might be true, he ran a trembling hand up his shoulder in search of the wound.

To his utter puzzlement, he found nothing. Quickly checking the opposite side yielded the same results. He was halfway through sitting up --now that, on the other hand, made him quickly realize that some parts of his body were most definitely still sore from the previous night-- when he realized he could find no bite anywhere.  


He considered fighting the residual torpor the heat left in his legs to try and stand up, but there was no need; from where he was sitting on the bed, the mirror on the nearby wall painted a very clear picture of the activities they’d enjoyed during the night. His body was covered in marks, mostly hickies and a number of finger-shaped bruises, especially around his waist and hips, and in some strategic locations where the alpha had held him by his arms or thighs in the middle of their coupling. The marks and their location left no doubt as to what they had been doing, and the contrast with Stephen’s creamy porcelain skin only made them utterly obvious. Mordo had been as gentle as he could manage given how lost to their basic instincts they had been, but Stephen’s skin had always bruised easily, and it now bore witness to their passionate union quite visibly. 

The sight of those marks now, in the light of the morning, brought a heated flush to Stephen’s face, a tinge of pink spreading down his neck all the way to his chest in a most attractive way.

His right fist still badly hurt from when he'd tried to punch the mugger in the alley, but he was also surprised to notice that other than that, his hands weren’t doing much worse than the usual amount of pain he was familiar with. They certainly weren’t throbbing anywhere near the extent of pain he'd expected to be feeling after all the exertions of the night. Mordo must have been particularly careful of not touching them harshly or holding him in ways that would put strain on the damaged areas, another thing that puzzled Stephen. _Why the gentleness?_ The alpha didn’t know him or have any reason to be so caring. It was so unreal and inexplicable, and yet it warmed Stephen’s heart in ways that almost scared him. 

But that was nothing compared to the fact that the sight of his body in the mirror confirmed that there was no bonding bite to be found anywhere. He was still free, for the time being at least.  


Utterly confused, Stephen stared at the image in the mirror, until he was startled by the door of the room opening.

 

~~~

 

Mordo had hurried back, not wanting to leave Stephen alone for too long, but he hadn’t expected him to be already awake when he entered, or to jump with such fear when the door opened.

One good thing at least, the omega seemed to noticeably relax when he realized it was him.

Mordo closed the door behind himself and approached the bed at a slower pace so as to not scare the omega, sitting on the edge of it and putting the tray between them, a disarming smile on his lips.

“I brought you food, tea with honey, and some salve for your injuries.” There was obvious guilt on his face as he looked at the marks he’d left all over Stephen’s body, but also a hunger he couldn’t possibly hold back. The omega’s scent was all over the room, mingling with the alpha’s own in a most appealing manner, and the heat was not completely over yet. Stephen was sated for now, but he would succumb to it again, probably in a few hours, and would need Mordo’s help again. The thought awakened instincts that made Mordo struggle to keep his composure.

  
Stephen seemed to be aware of it as well, and didn’t fight the way his body unmistakably reacted to Mordo’s close presence and his scent. There was no point in even trying to.

The flush on the omega's skin was deliciously appealing, spreading all the way down to his chest. That and the way his nipples seemed to perk up, hardening to little pebbles when the alpha sat closer, immediately caused Mordo’s trousers to feel a lot tighter than they’d been a moment ago.

Stephen stared at the food for an instant, ravenous but uncertain, before finally deciding that if Mordo had wanted to harm him he would have done it long ago. The American hurried to grab a bowl of soup and a piece of roti, practically shoving the flat bread into his mouth.  
He swallowed so fast he nearly choked, then held the bowl with both hands to avoid spilling it with the shaking. He brought it directly to his mouth, not bothering to use a spoon, just wolfing down the larger chunks of potatoes and other vegetables. He was famished, not only from the exertions of the previous night, but especially because of the recent months he spent barely eating while he was homeless. He’d been wandering the streets of Kathmandu for months, relying on whatever food good samaritans gave him, so he was well used to the local fare, but rarely ever got this much food at once.

In the stark morning light, his alabaster-pale body told a tale of dreary misery, jutting hips and salient ribs to match the gaunt face that his unkempt beard wasn’t enough to cover up. The fever had broken but it had left him with shiny and sunken eyes, red-rimmed and made worse by the dark circles underneath them.  
He wondered how Mordo could have found it in himself to touch him when he looked like this. In his mind, he reminded himself of a starving horse on its last legs. As a child, he’d once seeing a horse on the verge of death from starvation, the result of abuse in a nearby farm, and it was not much different from what he felt he must look like now.

In a way, his appearance and the fact that the alpha had quite literally picked him off the street, were perhaps enough of an explanation for why there was no bond bite. Even though alphas could break bonds or in many cases even bind multiple omegas to themselves if they so wished (it was only for omegas that a broken bond had heavy consequences), it was likely that no alpha would want to claim a thing like him, even as a momentary amusement. It should have made him feel happy, that he was still free, and it did, but it also made him feel even more worthless than he already felt before.

Putting the bowl down for now, he tried to find the words to ask such a difficult question, but nothing came. The last thing he wanted was to cause his fear to come true, by prying foolishly. But Mordo had such a patient look on, and encouraged him to speak when Stephen hesitated, so at long last, he finally blurted out, “You… didn’t bite me.”

Mordo suddenly looked guilty, and hurried into an explanation, as if Stephen was accusing him of having nearly done it, and of the things Mordo was angry at himself for.

“I wanted to so much. I nearly lost my mind and claimed you. But I held back.” There was such guilt in Mordo’s voice when he confessed to his near failure. He stretched a hand and caressed the customary bite area, at the junction between Stephen’s shoulder and neck, his touch gentle but firm. The contact was electrifying, and Stephen’s breath caught in his throat, his body shaking with need, instinctively yearning for Mordo to go further, to deepen the connection. Mordo pulled back his fingers, as if burned. 

The temptation was still strong, even now. “Does it hurt? In the heat of things I mouthed the area quite harshly, for which I’m sorry.”

Stephen vaguely remembered that, among the maelstrom of pleasure that nearly blotted out everything else. It might have been why he had been so sure he’d been claimed. 

Mordo looked positively stricken with guilt. Stephen, increasingly puzzled with each moment that passed, but bolstered in his self-esteem by the thought that it hadn’t been disgust behind the lack of bite after all, blurted out the thing foremost on his mind.

“Why didn’t you?” The question hung in the air, and so did Stephen, leaning forward, lips parted and as wet as his eyes were. He waited for the truth that for some reason, he desperately needed to know. Mordo held his gaze, equally troubled, and felt like the intimacy between them in that moment was easily as high as it had been while he was buried deep inside the omega’s quivering body. A thought that did nothing to help him keep his composure.

Tearing his gaze away, Mordo fixed his eyes on the coverlet, fingers picking at a loose thread somewhere halfway between the two of them.

“I couldn’t possibly forgive myself if I had bitten you when you could not consent to it. It was bad enough that you had to consent to the-” he gestured to the bed impatiently, as if he found distasteful to voice what had been almost a transgression, “the sex while in distress from the heat, but something like a bond…” He looked up, meeting the omega’s gaze again. “Such a decision should only be made in a moment when you can be sure of yourself. Whatever you might have said in the middle of it...” As Mordo trailed off, Stephen felt heat rising in his face again, fueled by a memory coming to his mind, of his body quaking with pleasure and his voice distorted from sobs of need as he begged Mordo over and over, to bite and claim him. He couldn’t believe he’d lost his mind so completely, but the memory was clear.  
Mordo picked up on Stephen’s shame and tried to reassure him, “Whatever happened during the heat was just that. Chemicals speaking. I couldn’t have forgiven myself if I had deprived you of the right to decide.”

Stephen stared at him, finally truly seeing Mordo, in a completely different light now.  
The American’s breath was shaking from awe, and the warmth that spread in his chest at Mordo’s words was like nothing he’d felt before, especially amidst the bleakness of the year since the accident. He licked his lips and looked for the words to express the joy that Mordo’s words made him feel, but all that came was a shy smile and the flood of emotion taking his voice away and bringing tears to his eyes. He looked at Mordo like someone locked in a basement for far too long might look at the light of the sun. Dazzled and awed beyond words.

Mordo found himself fascinated by every detail of Stephen’s marveled expression. The way the omega looked at him was like no one ever had before. Mordo had been looked at with awe, admiration, desire and so on before, countless times, but never all of them at once as openly as Stephen was doing now, and especially never with such a guileless gaze. For all that Stephen had clearly gone through, the man’s heart was truly innocent. 

When Mordo leaned forward, stopping an inch from the American’s lips, Stephen didn’t object, instead leaning closer. Mordo sensed nothing but pure want on the trembling breath dancing against his lips. So he closed the gap and claimed the American’s lips, delighting in the way they immediately parted to welcome him in, and in the soft moan of anticipation that spilled out of that mouth, begging him to deepen the kiss.

 

~~~

** Epilogue **

 

 

They were joined again that night, and the one after. True to his word, Mordo continued to resist and did not bite Stephen, insisting that a bond was a decision that could only be taken when Stephen would be in full control of his mental faculties, outside of the influence of the heat. But even without a bond, the two had grown terribly close, more so than either could have believed possible in such a short span of time. Their meeting may have been unexpected, but there was no denying the immediate connection between them. Mordo was increasingly convinced it was no accident, and that they were meant to be.

On the third day, Stephen’s heat finally broke, and once more in his street clothes, he left the room for the first time and the Ancient One received him for tea.

She showed him countless dimensions, wonders and horrors such that Mordo had to intervene time and time again, to hold Stephen so he would not fall and get hurt, and later simply because Mordo was afraid for the omega’s safety, and the things he was being exposed to were not something a normal mind could withstand without preparation; Stephen’s heartbeat had rose so high that Mordo caused the Ancient One to interrupt the dimensional trip, if but for a moment.

At the end of the ‘tour’, Stephen had begged the Ancient One to teach him --a certain pride swelled in Mordo’s heart then, knowing that after seeing things that would have sent a lesser man into a frenzy of terror begging to never see them again, Stephen instead embraced the unknown and wanted to learn how to handle it. It only confirmed things Mordo had already come to believe about the man he’d rescued.

So it was a great shock and pain for Mordo when the Ancient One refused Stephen’s request and had him cast out of Kamar Taj instead.

For hours Mordo pleaded with her, desperate and ready to do anything to get Stephen accepted into Kamar Taj. He had seen it clearly in the omega’s eyes, that he had no intention to go on living if he couldn’t be allowed in. Mordo would not rest until he changed his master’s mind. 

For hours, Stephen waited outside, his only comfort being the occasional faint scent of Mordo’s alpha pheromones, indicating that although the man was not going against his teacher’s commands, he was frequently coming to the door to assure himself that Stephen was still there, and still well. Despite that, Stephen hit the very rock bottom of his despair, clinging to the door and begging over and over to be let in, throughout a whole afternoon and night.

By the time the dawn of the next day neared, he had broken down completely, and the door finally opened. He’d been leaning against it and fell in as it did, but not even the hard landing on the cold stone floor could have made him feel anything other than the most complete and utter gratitude. At this moment, he’d been truly taken apart and was finally ready to be put back together in whatever way Kamar Taj saw fit; he would have abased himself to anything if they told him it was a necessity to enter the place.

But fortunately, no one expected him to. Instead, he was rapidly pulled from the cold floor and into Mordo’s arms, as the latter closed the door behind them and engulfed Stephen in the much needed warmth of his embrace. The dimness of the entrance hall was no longer scary; it felt reassuring instead, like a blanket of privacy keeping them away from prying eyes, at least for a few moments more while they remained in that room.

The omega didn’t realize when he had started crying so hard --after all, he had been crying all along, throughout the whole night, but not even the dehydration and the resulting splitting headache he now had did anything to prevent the waterworks erupting-- he was openly sobbing against Mordo’s chest while the alpha lovingly shushed him and whispered sweet comforts in his ear, calloused hands rubbing gentle caresses up and down his back, trying to envelop the trembling omega in a cocoon of protectiveness and safety.

Mordo had been through a lot in his life. There wasn't much anymore that truly frightened him. But he was afraid. 

Afraid of how strongly he felt for Stephen. 

The Ancient One was the constant in his life, the one who had taken him from the depths of darkness his grandfather had dragged him into, the one who had pulled him back into the light. He owed her everything. And yet he'd been a hair’s breadth away from telling her that if she didn’t change her mind about casting Stephen out, he would go too. That was unacceptable, and yet it was how he'd felt. That frightened him. 

In the end, the Ancient One had changed her mind or, as Mordo suspected, she had planned the whole refusal and acceptance thing all along in order to either test Stephen’s resolve or break him down more completely, so that he'd be ready to be rebuilt from nothing too. It was hard to divine the Ancient One’s motivations at times. She did what she did for good reasons, although her methods could be merciless when needed. But whatever may be the reason, she had finally allowed him to bring Stephen in as a student, which fortunately saved Mordo from having to find out what he would have done otherwise. 

But that still left him his worst fear. 

In the short time they'd been together, Stephen had already become so important for him. But the American was so fragile, so broken and vulnerable. The idea that Stephen had no option left but walking the same path as them terrified Mordo, especially with the knowledge that Kaecilius was out there, every day possibly closer to deciphering the rituals. Stephen could at any time be dragged into a war he was completely unprepared for, and which he would most certainly not survive. Unless Mordo managed to prepare him for it, as quickly as possible. 

Kissing Stephen’s tears away, Mordo lifted him into his arms --prompting the omega to let out a startled noise and wrap his arms around the alpha’s shoulders for balance, something that Mordo found adorable-- and carried him into the compound once and for all. 

They had a lot to do, and very little time. But they would get there. 

Of that, Mordo was sure.

 

 

~ The End ~

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompts.
> 
> One from the [Doctor Strange kinkmeme](https://doctorstrangekinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/157265678140/strordo-prompt-before-mordo-even-gets-to-say):  
>  _Strordo prompt: before Mordo even gets to say "you're looking for Kamar-Taj", Stephen succumbs to his injuries and passes out in Mordo's arms. When he wakes up, he's in a comfortable bed, tucked in, wearing fresh clothes, while a candle illuminates the small room and a handsome man he's never seen dozes in a chair next to the bed._
> 
> And the other from [Mianmimi](http://mianmimi.tumblr.com/):  
>  _"Can we get an omegaverse version of when Stephen gets mugged in Nepal?_  
>  _Like Alpha Karl swoops in to save Omega Stephen from being assaulted. His heat hits him hard as soon as he sees Mordo cause perfect timing in everything and dammmnn. Damnnnn!_  
>  _Then Mordo brings him to Kamar-Taj to genuinely try to help him out. Give him shelter during the heat and be all gentlemanly. But then everyone sees it and they’re like…omg, omg, omg you finally found someone? He’s…uh…he’s looking kinda rough but okay."_


End file.
